After returning from Vienna, I spent a couple of days in St. Andrews before venturing by train to York, England.
I had been hoping to visit York since September when I had
heard great things about the historic Northern English city. I also had a close friend at St.
Andrews from York - Zoe, a first-year student who lived in my corridor and introduced me to ceilidh dancing left St. Andrews after a couple of weeks in September and chose
to enroll in Durham. She lives in York and we’ve kept in touch periodically
over the past seven months. I planned the trip with Erin, a mutual friend from Saint Michael’s
studying abroad in Cardiff, Wales. York was a new location for both of us and is a little under four hours south
of St. Andrews by train, and for Erin, a little over four. We met Friday
afternoon at York rail station and began to explore the city.
We first noticed just how historic everything was. Very
stone, and large city walls dating from the eleventh or twelfth centuries
surround the city. Several of the buildings too, dated from the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries. The doorways were smaller and often curved and the River
Ouse runs through the middle of the city. We checked into our hostel later in
the afternoon, which might be where the story begins.
The River Ouse.
I had done research on Ace York hostel, and it was rated
quire highly as a hostel. I had stayed in great hostels previously in the Highlands,
Argyll, and Vienna, and had high hopes. The building - which dated back to 1750 - was
beautiful. Large colourful and modern portraits hung of Richard III and English
countryside scenes. Plaques hung in front of doors and rooms stating the previous occupants
or use of the room. and a large and dramatic staircase was the central point of the main floor. Erin and I were placed in a room just for ourselves in the cellar in the old servant’s
quarters, across from the old stables. All seemed well and the building had
attractive architecture and furnishings, but we couldn’t help but notice that
our room was a bit dirty…mainly the sheets…and very cold. We left for the
remainder of the afternoon, and found dinner later at an Italian restaurant
which we both enjoyed. The city was bright at night, and we found historical
sights we had hoped to visit the next day. We returned to our hostel room
around 11, and I took a shower and readied myself for bed. Our room had warmed
up a bit and while in the bathroom, I heard Erin watching the small television from her bed. When I stepped out
of the bathroom, Erin turned to me and said quickly, ‘Uhmmm, I saw a ghost.’ At
first, I thought she was joking. Our room was old, chilly, in a historic city,
and previously used as the servant’s quarters. I soon believed her though. She
described the striking image of a young servant girl in a long dress clouded in
a fog of grey, dusty smoke descending through our door, across the room, and
through the walls right above where my overnight bag was. Needless to say, I was pretty
creeped out. I think I shook for awhile (and happened to be holding a glass
of water that seemed glued to my hand and shook with me) and requested Erin to move her bed a bit closer to mine as I was in prime ghost territory. Within the hour though, we
both had fallen asleep and we slept well, but when we woke, we both really wanted to
learn more about our room and the ghost. I was still pretty creeped out in the room, but knew we
had one more night.
Exiting the room, I found an employee across the hall leaving another room. I
explained Erin’s encounter, and asked if it was common, or if there was an
interesting story or piece of history associated with what had been seen. The
employee seemed bewildered, and said she had never heard of such a thing. I
asked next at the front desk, where the woman we had checked in the day before
seemed genuinely interested in the story and exactly what happened but stated
she had never heard such a thing in four years. I got the impression though,
that both women knew of something, but didn’t want it known or shared.
Myself in the mirror outside our room. We weren't used to the door opening outwards. Ohh and Erin said the ghost used that main door as entry when floating into our room - must have been an old door!
The hallway leading to our hostel room.
The steep staircase that reminded me a bit of the servant's quarters in Downton Abbey. :)
The rest of the day, we explored the city, enjoyed walking
down the Shambles, a historic and ancient street in York, the York Castle
Museum where we learned about the history of York with a focus applied to York
in the late Middle Ages and Victorian era, and explored the castle prison
where 15,000 prisoners were taken over the course of about a century between the 1800 and 1900's, with most being released or
sent to Tasmania or America (not sure on the America one…), and 500
being executed. I was able to search the prison records for prisoners who
shared my last name, and there were two. Thomas and Francis. Thomas was sent to
Tasmania while Francis Kendall (made stranger as many of the men in my family share the middle name…) was executed.
The Shambles.
More of the Shambles.
Serious patriotism at the York Castle Museum
Later that afternoon, Erin and I met up with my friend Zoe
in front of York Minster, a large historically Catholic church dating from the late Middle Ages. It was
wonderful seeing Zoe, the three of us explored book shops, clothing shops, stopped for tea and a doughnut,
walked around the city, and laughed so, so much. I haven't laughed that much in a long time and it was wonderful.
York Minster.
Myself and Zoe.
Zoe stayed with us for dinner,
and it was such a fun evening. She lives right outside of York and told us she
drives her moped into and out of the city. She explained she had just gotten a
new moped which was a bit heavier than her last. She also saw how interested I
was and asked at the end of the night if I would like to drive it around the
carpark. It was amazing. I had driven a moped once before, a bright 1970s
orange one that was small and light when I was fourteen. Zoe handed me her
helmet which was actually a motorcycle helmet, and familiarized me again with
the accelerator and brake. Her moped was heavy, and at first I struggled balancing it, but once I had it figured out, it was very fun to drive a lap. Erin took a turn next and took a
picture of me as I returned. :)
After saying goodbye to Zoe, Erin and I headed back to our
hostel, experienced a ghost-free night, and were up early the next morning for our
7:30 trains. Ohh and when checking-out of the hostel, the same woman I had spoken too
at the reception about the ghost the day before said slowly and so drawn out in
her York accent, ‘Any ghosts last night?’ A man (and fellow employee) nearby
heard and responded, ‘I tend to look a bit like a ghost in the morning’. All ghosts aside, the trip was wonderful and so fun. :)
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